Notwithstanding the permission Willie did not immediately avail himself of it but instead lingered uneasily as if something troubled his conscience. 

 "Say, Tiny," he blurted out at length, "if you happen around by the front door and miss the screen don't be scared an' think it's stole. I had to use it fur somethin' last night." 

 "The screen door?" gasped Celestina. 

 "Yes." 

 "But—but—Willie! The door was new this Spring; there wasn't a brack in it." 

 "I know it," was the calm answer.  "That's why I took it." 

 "But you could have got nettin' over at the store to-day." 

 "I couldn't wait." 

 Celestina did not reply at once; but when she did she had herself well in hand, and every trace of irritation had vanished from her tone. 

 "Well, we don't often open that door, anyway," she reflected aloud, "so I guess no harm's done. It's a full year since anybody's come to the front door, an' like as not 'twill be another before—" 

 A jangling sound cut short the sentence. 

 "What's that?" exclaimed she aghast. 

 "It's a bell." 

 "I never heard a bell like that in this house." 

 "It's a bell I rigged up one day when you were gone to the Junction," exclaimed Willie hurriedly.  "I thought I told you about it." 

 "You didn't." 

 "Well, no matter now," he went on soothingly. 

 "I meant to." 

 "Where is it?" demanded Celestina. 

 "It's in the hall. It's a new front-door bell, that's what it is," proclaimed the inventor, his voice lost in a second deafening peal. 

 Prev. P 25/181 next